


Fic: Wire Fish (Pinto, NC-17)

by spockalicious



Category: Actor RPF, Pinto - Fandom, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, M/M, MC injury, Mental/Emotional Trauma, Mild BDSM, OC death, Violence, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockalicious/pseuds/spockalicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murder/Mystery with a dash of love...</p><p>ZQ is a bit part actor working in New York whilst attempting to establish a production company.</p><p>One night he has a graphic, violent nightmare. Although shaken, he passes it off as nothing more than a bad dream until he finds evidence in a local newspaper of a young man murdered in similar circumstances.  He is convinced his nightmare was real even though everyone around him says otherwise.</p><p>Then he has another nightmare, and then another.</p><p>Is ZQ seeing the future? And is the man with smiling blue eyes real too?  If so, where is he, and how can ZQ save him from the violent death he has seen in his nightmares?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic: Wire Fish (Pinto, NC-17)

**Author's Note:**

> Angst, mental/emotional trauma, violence, OC death, MC injury, mild BDSM, drug use, H/c

The first time Zach ever experienced a nightmare he had been reluctant to wake his mother in the middle of the night, after all he had been 15 years old but the thing had been so intense he hadn’t been able to shake off the effects so had gone to wake her.

15 years later and Zach was thinking he wanted to do the same thing. Only this time his mother wasn’t in the next room; it would mean calling her in the middle of the night which would probably be worse for her than it was for him and after all, he was 30 years old and he should be able to manage things by himself now.

Instead he sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands and gulped air like he had been on a 5 hour run; sweat soaking his bare back and chilling him until he shivered. Just like when he was 15 the sounds just would not go away and an image kept flashing in his head of a guy with an open mouth and glassy eyes and table lamp rocking backwards and forwards on the floor reflecting off – “Jesus!”

Zach was on his feet and staggering to the bathroom. The glaring light made him screw his eyes. The water he repeatedly splashed over his face sharpened reality and pushed back the terrifying image but the sounds kept going. It was like someone was repeating his name over and over and over and over –“Fuck.”

Zach screwed his fingers into his dark hair, tugging hard and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. Shivering gripped him as water trickled down his lean torso and soaked into the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, but the sounds eventually faded into the background until all that was left was a tinnitus hiss in his ears and negative visual effect from staring too long in the bright light.

Suppressing a bout of shivering, Zach abandoned the bathroom. He grabbed a large wool throw from the bottom of the bed, turfing off his dozing cat in the process and headed to the kitchen. The clock on the cooker blinked 3.31am as he pulled open the refrigerator door and grabbed a carton of fresh pressed apple juice. Mid slug, a lick on his heel made him nearly choke and his spattering of chest hair received an appley soaking. The large wool throw slipped off his shoulders and landed on top of - “Noah! God damn it. You scared the shit out of me. Stupid dog.”

The wool throw developed a wagging tail and whined, and Zach watched it slide across the kitchen floor until a vigorous shake brought Noah’s head out from underneath. Zach smiled wanly and grabbed a tea cloth from the kitchen counter dabbing at his appley chest hair. “Thanks buddy. I smell real nice right now.” Noah seemed to get the message and without another whine or wag retreated into his basket, flopping his head over the side.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to call you stupid,” said Zach. Noah’s brows twitched and he sighed. “Don’t give me that, I had a bad dream,” appealed Zach and grabbed the throw off the floor, slinging it around his shoulders and headed for the lounge. He fell asleep curled up on the couch with the TV running some repetitive shopping channel selling ugly coloured force grown sea water pearls.

…....

Three weeks later Zach wanted to call his mother again. Instead he called his best friend Corey.

“Whoa, wait, calm down Zach!” Laughter mixing with sounds of street traffic rattled down the phone.

Zach spun in the middle of his lounge and gesticulated frantically, flapping the newspaper around he had grasped in his hand. “I’m not lying. It’s the same guy,” hissed Zach, pressing his mobile tight to his ear.

“It can’t be the same guy, you had a dream about a guy who looked the same as the other guy.” Corey was laughing again but Zach could tell it sounded a little strained and got the immediate impression he was being placated.

“Don’t patronise me, Corey.”

“I’m not patronising you, Zach.” The sound of an exasperated exhale distorted the phone’s earpiece. “I know you’re always saying there are bigger things in life but I don’t think developing clairvoyance in the middle of the night is one of ‘em. Just relax man.” Zach rolled his eyes and it was his turn to exhale. “Just take a step back for a moment and do some yoga or something.”

“Corey!”

“Well what the hell do you want me to say, Zach? Yes, you’re a god damn clairvoyant. Jesus man.” The sounds of street traffic and footfalls, voices and a ‘yeah, yeah, just a minute’ made Zach slump on his couch, the crumpled newspaper flung on the coffee table in disgust.

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” said Zach, pinching his brow. “But it was a real head fuck of a dream, Corey. I swear to you I was going to call my mom it was that bad.”

Laughter sounded down the phone again. “You need to get laid, Zach. Look I gotta go, gimme a call later and we’ll talk about it some more.”

Zach heard another ‘yeah, yeah’ before “I gotta go,” and Corey hung up.

Zach dropped his phone into his lap and stared at. He had hoped talking to someone would help him shake off the unpleasant sense of pressure on his nerves but it had just pushed his mood further into the zone of edginess. He felt uncomfortable as if something was in the room with him staring at him and he just could not get past the feeling he knew he was right.

Rubbing his face, Zach leant forward and grabbed the crumpled newspaper off the coffee table, grappling with the loose pages that slipped and slithered until he managed to flatten the damn thing so he could re-read the by line. He stared at the photo of a guy he did not know and read the headline again. ‘Amateur actor David Thatcher’s last curtain call – Police fail to solve murder’. A hazy image of a guy laying on the floor, open mouthed and glassy eyed with a table lamp rocking on the floor popped into Zach’s head and he flung the newspaper aside. “Fuck this.”

An hour later Zach was striding through the park with Noah trotting along beside him, the pressure on his nerves and the sense of an invisible person staring at him keeping pace. A coffee at a local café did nothing to alleviate or distract him and in fact the caffine shot constricted his arteries and just made him even more edgy. By the time he stumbled back through the front door of his apartment he had managed to kill six hours of a day and had achieved little.

Zach ate with little appetite that evening, showered, called Corey again whose phone went straight to “Hi, busy, leave a message,” and Zach hung up feeling deflated and isolated and proceeded to pace fractiously about his apartment. At 10.20pm in a fit of “Fuck this, fuck this,” he grabbed his keys and headed out, wandering around until he found himself perched on a bar stool in a noisy, sweaty down town club being shoved and occasionally brushed as music pumped his eardrums deaf.

By the sixth shot of tequila, Zach felt suitably fuzzy and was forcing the ‘this is not a good idea Zach’ voice inside his head to one side when another voice shouted in his ear “HI, what’s your name?” and a humid arm slung itself around his shoulders. Zach instinctively leant away from the firm body pressing against him and turned his head to look at the young guy who was trying a best first impressions smile.

“What?” asked Zach, even though he had heard the guy clearly.

“I said ‘Hi’, what’s your name’,” repeated the young guy gamely, shouting in fact over the blaring music. Zach thought the guy was sort of bland, everyday brown eyes a little too close together, decent teeth, probably paid for by some indulgent family to reduce the possibility of bullying at school and mousey hair with an expensive cut that Zach judged was probably hard as rock from too much sculpting gel.

“Zach,” said Zach, and that was that.

Zach kissed hello and goodbye to two more tequilas and didn’t listen to anything that the young guy chattered into his ear and didn’t really object much when the chattering stopped and a mouth sticky from pink alcohopop met his own. He let himself be led from the club, swaying and surrendering to guidance as he staggered along the cold 1am streets and permitted the hot sticky mouth to coat his exposed throat as he tumbled through the door of the young guy’s apartment.

The voice in Zach’s head was distant but insistent ‘this is not a good idea Zach’ but he ignored it as he was pulled onto a sofa. He accepted the offer of disco snow before a sticky urgent tongue filled his mouth. Zach swallowed as his saliva turned acrid and felt his throat turn numb as his jaw began to ache before he realised he was grinding his teeth and had lost most of his clothing.

Zach flopped his head back and the world became a swimming fuzz in the half lit room, a post club hiss in his ears mingling with the inner voice ‘go home now’ as he felt something tug on his cock that suddenly became hot and wet. He could barely lift his head but in a fuddle of senses glimpsed movement and felt fingers in his ass before he felt something slick rubbed in and around his ass and the voice in his head was saying ‘stop this!’.

A condom packet was tapped against Zach’s nose making him blink and he tried to focus on the lubed fingers in front of him that were asking him to open the packet. Dutifully he found that he had, the room tilting as he moved awkwardly and blank ceiling became orange and cream vintage 70’s shag pile when hands pulled his hips. His aching jaw unlocked itself in response to an urgent cock filling his ass, his own hardening a little as he was ploughed and the cheap rug rubbed against his knees and elbows until the friction started to hurt.

Zach’s senses reeled and coupled with the voice inside his head that was saying ‘oh god Zach, why?’ he suddenly wished he was at home and in bed and alone and his cock wasn’t rubbing against the coarse rug fibres and the pounding rhythm would stop. He felt a hard buck and the skin on his cock pull painfully tight as the hard floor resisted, his own weak ejaculation coating his stomach before his ass was empty and a hard slap against his backside sealed the deal and made him feel disgusted with himself.

Zach tried to ignore the smell of the rug as his face pressed against it and tried not to breath in case whatever rug mite shit the voice inside his head was telling him existed in the fibres got in his mouth or up his nose. He heard movement around him and dragged himself up from the floor, a dull burn in his knees and elbows as he searched for his clothes. The bland young guy all flush faced and still eager attempted to persuade him to stay but Zach mumbled some weak excuse about work at the office and left soon after.

Home bed and home sofa and home food and home shower gave Zach the strength and purpose to put one foot in front of the other and somehow the inner guidance mechanism clicked in and finally got him to his front door. He fumbled with the lock and fell into his apartment collapsing on the first available soft horizontal surface and passed out.  
……………..

The garden gate opened and Zach wandered in. The lawn was close cut surrounded by murky boarders with strange wrought wire figures sticking up between the foliage that looked like fish and dotted around the place candles flickered in breeze protectors. There was a girl sat on a swing in the corner sucking on a large lollipop and party noise coming from inside the house.

Zach stumbled up the garden steps with a sense of curiosity and excitement bubbling in his stomach, entering the house through a dangling beaded door hanger that lingered strands over his shoulders until he was well into the room. The carpet was threadbare and two people were sat on chairs with shredded upholstery doing a crossword while conversational chatter and music drifted through a doorway ahead of him.

Zach hovered in the room and a woman who was lounging in one of the chairs turned her face in his direction and said “Percussive lingering, nine words.” Zach felt himself shrug his shoulders and suddenly he was in the next room mingling with a crowd of people he didn’t know who chattered in groups and glanced in his direction but said nothing.

How he managed to find himself in yet another room Zach could only guess and was wondering how many rooms the house actually had when a body pressed close to his and all his attention became focused on the rather inviting mouth that was whispering something he couldn’t quite hear over the noise of chatter and music. He willingly let those lips lead him into another room and with a rising sense of self consciousness lay down on a bare mattress.

Urgency flooded through Zach as he fumbled with the zip on his pants, pulling out his cock and offering it. He watched inviting lips produce a tongue that teased at his slit, flicking and coaxing until Zach was groaning and every fibre in his being burned with a voice that said ‘now, now, now’. He raised his hips, his fingers weaving into blonde hair, guiding and pulling and watched his swollen cock delve between willing lips that began to pump and suck.

Zach panicked as a loud bell started ringing somewhere in the house and stifled a groan in case the people chattering in the adjacent room heard him and wandered in through the open door and he was close and he wanted to come in the mouth that he knew wanted him to come and watched lusty blue eyes watching him and he was suddenly saying something but he couldn’t even hear himself over the sound of the bell.

Zach blinked and groaned. Excruciating sunlight burned into his brain as he stretched out his hand and grappled with the alarm clock at the side of his bed that refused to stop ringing. “God damn it.” He fiddled with the switch and finally the ringing stopped. He flopped against pillows, kneading his eyes with the heels of his hands and groaned a little as he felt his erection rub against the material of his pyjamas. His hands soon freed him from the encumbrance of clothing and he closed his eyes delving back into the scraps of his dream, picturing blue eyes and a willing mouth as he ran his thumb over the nub of his cock.

The name of the guy with the blue eyes changed daily and Zach mouthed a name as he brought himself on. He explored his own ass with teasing fingers that he imagined were the guy’s fingers and finally kicked off the coverlet, raising his knees and slipped a pre-cum covered finger into ass. “Mngnn. Chris.”

Zach indulged himself, the guy with the blue eyes wantonly urging him on until Zach felt the ring of muscle tighten around his finger and a flick of moisture touched his chin and caught the corner of his mouth. As endorphins flooded through him, he opened his eyes to watch himself milk the last remains of his ejaculation, the image of the guy with blue eyes wavering in his mind before it finally disappeared.

Zach flopped, enjoying the buzz in his nerve endings, licking his lips and tasting himself as he eased his finger out of his ass. He nursed his sensitive cock, holding it in the comfort of his palm until sunlight poked at him again. Rising reluctantly from the bed he showered immediately, the hot water stinging his senses back into life and erasing all memory of the guy with blue eyes.

The morning continued to pass off as unremarkable and Zach busied himself with phone calls to casting agents, potential producers and other industry links. All proved to be lengthy unproductive conversations. Feeling slightly jaded and down hearted, Zach grabbed his keys and with a stern “No, stay,” to Noah, headed off for the doctors appointment he had been dreading for the past week and a half.

Within an hour Zach was sat in waiting room feeling uncomfortable, glancing at a picture of cancerous lungs on the wall opposite him for the hundredth time whilst surreptitiously smelling his clothes. He was sure that someone had puked in the yellow cab he had taken earlier and was now somehow imbued with the scent. He had convinced himself he could still smell it.

“Mr Quinto, Dr Holden is free now; if you’d like to go in.” Zach blinked and stared at the plastic smile the receptionist was wearing before he came to his senses and headed in the general direction she was pointing. He knew the way of course, he had been twice in the last week to be prodded and poked with needles, giving over what he considered to be half of the blood in his body for tests.

Dr Holden was his usual subdued self as Zach entered the room and seemed to be wearing the same crisp tweedy clothes Zach had seen him wearing on previous visits.

“Mr Quinto, come in, take a seat,” droned Dr Holden, tapping at a keyboard in front of him.

Before Zach’s backside even touched the said chair, a sweat inducing black mock leather beside the desk, Dr Holden was examining a piece of paper and droning on in his usual professionally distant manner.

“The tests are negative. Have you had any unprotected penetrative sex or other bodily fluid exchanges since your last visit?”

Zach suddenly felt like he was being tried for murder in the first degree and any explanation he gave would not save him from immediate execution. He stumbled over his words as a consequence, trapping his hands between his knees. “No, no I haven’t. I haven’t. Done anything. At all. So everything is fine, right?”

“The test result are negative,” repeated Dr Holden in a bored voice. Zach stared back expecting something else to be said but the doctor just stared at him with unconcerned eyes that seemed to say ‘specimen’.

“Right,” said Zach, anxiety crawling around in the pit of his stomach. He shifted in the chair. His ass felt hot and damp.

“There is nothing more today,” stated Dr Holden, closing a file in front of him with fat fingers before adding “Unless there is anything else?” in a monochrome voice that seemed to suggest ‘even if there was I’m not really that concerned’.

The image of an orange and cream 70’s shag pile rug that had dogged Zach for the past week and a half loomed out of the darkness inside his head. Suddenly he wanted to blurt out a question about the possibilities of lung disease as a result of breathing in carpet mite shit.

“I’m…. have nightmares about people being killed and then I look in the paper or on the news and they are real and they are actually dead and have been killed and it fucking scares the shit out of me. Am I mad?” Not strictly true, he had only had one nightmare but Zach wanted to press home the seriousness of the issue. Zach stared at his doctor waiting for the guy to pick up the phone and dial a number and ask for an ambulance but instead all Zach received was a mild frown.

“Why do you think these people you dream of are real people?” asked Dr Holden, his voice equally bland as before.

“Because they are,” replied Zach, feeling a quiver in his stomach and a sense of desperation mushroom inside him. “I see their faces in my dreams and then they are in the papers or in..”

“Yes you said that,” interrupted Dr Holden and Zach felt his ass slick with sweat as he shifted on the mock leather chair. “How long have you been having the dreams?”

“Nightmares,” corrected Zach urgently. “They are nightmares, scary, shitty, nasty, nightmares and they scare the shit out of me.” Zach swallowed and blinked wide eyed at the doctor who seemed to relax in his chair, steepling his fingers as he waited for a response. “Five weeks,” blurted Zach.

“And in that time would you say you have been under pressure as a result of lifestyle choice?”

Zach felt a sinking feeling. “You mean work, right? No more than usual,” Zach replied defensively. “They are real.”

“I am sure,” droned Dr Holden, forcing what Zach presumed was a professional smile. “Sometimes we can convince ourselves of truths we want to believe rather than seeing the reality of a truth. What you describe is quite normal. I would not be too concerned about the nature of the dreams themselves. Think about why you are having the dreams. Do you have other types of dreams?”

Zach was convinced he could feel fingers picking at his brain tissue. “Yes,” he blurted and immediately panicked as he realised his answer sounded like he was agreeing with the doctor’s suggestion to think about his dreams rather than just answer the question and was about to add ‘I’ve already thought about why and I don’t know and I don’t understand which is why I’m asking you’ but Dr Holden had dived in ahead of Zach with another question.

“What are your other dreams like? Can you explain them?”

Zach blinked and imagined himself laying on a laboratory slide under a microscope unable to move as a scalpel sliced him open. “Er..sexy dreams. Sort of.” Zach winced internally and heat crawled up his neck.

“Sexual fantasies,” stated Dr Holden flatly, flexing his steepled fingers and nodding slowly.

Zach cringed and did his best to throw up an instinctive shield but the moist sweaty feeling under his backside just made him want to stand up and check he hadn’t pissed his pants. “That’s normal, right?”

Dr Holden continued nodding. “Dreams reflect a persons’ sub-conscious drives and needs. Often any individual that figures highly in dreams is a projection of the individual dreamer’s unresolved emotional or mental state. In effect, everyone in your dream is you. The dreams you describe are repetitive in nature; it could probably mean that until you reach resolution they will continue. Think carefully about each of your dreams. Actively. Confront, so to speak.”

Zach’s brain attempted to unscramble the doctor’s words and cling on to the threads of his own convictions. “But what about the fact the people I dream about are real?” asked Zach.

“That’s not really possible, Mr Quinto,” said Dr Holden, sitting forward in his chair finally and shifting the file on his desk. “It just appears to be that way.” He put the file in a tray as if to say ‘time to leave now’ before smiling at his patient again in a very professional way. “Give it more time.”

Zach murmured a thank you and rose slowly to his feet, brushing a hand against his ass feeling the dry cord of his jeans. He glanced at his backside mark creased in the black mock leather chair and mumbled another thank you as Dr Holden nodded throwing a ‘not a suitable specimen’ smile.

As he left the doctor’s surgery Zach nursed the hollow feeling in his chest, dug his hands into the warmth of his jacket and wandered along the busy New York streets back to his apartment; he wondered where the sense of relief he had expected to feel from the negative test results had disappeared to. Dr Holden’s last words seemed to overshadow the cold, sunny afternoon and instead of peace Zach had turmoil. The blaring noise from the traffic and inadvertent glances from passers by increased his sense of isolation and exposure and all he wanted to do was get home and close his front door on the world.

“Confront my ass.”  
..........................

Zach stared across the gloomy barren parkscape and blew across the top of the hot chocolate, enjoying the near painful burn from the mug in the palms of his gloved hands and sniffed. His breath clouded in front of him and mingled with Noah’s who was sat patiently beside the café table dressed in a purple doggy warmer. It was late in the afternoon with the light dying quickly and the café was all but deserted. It suited Zach’s mood.

Two joggers slogged past the cafe in a cloud of huffed breaths and Zach watched them disappear into the distance before temperature testing the edge of the mug with his lips. Noah huffed, jangling his lead and rose expectantly to his feet, eyes fixed on a squirrel that dashed between nearby trees. “No,” drawled Zach without much enthusiasm sending another cloud of hot moisture into the cold air and took sip of scolding chocolate. Noah resumed position, whining softly.

Zach signed, watching the breath that had accompanied his mood float off and dissolve into the surrounding grey afternoon. An image nudged at the corner of his mind but he stared fixedly at the leafless trees ahead of him and watched a squirrel race along a branch. The image nudged again and he defiantly took another sip of his hot chocolate, the liquid comfortingly warm and snuggling at his insides.

A distorted face loomed at the edges of Zach’s mind. Zach’s lips hovered on the edge of the mug before taking another sip of chocolate, the squirrel in the tree opposite perching at a standstill on a branch. Plastic tied tight with grey duct tape poked its way into Zach’s head. Zach cleared his throat and attempted to ignore the cold creeping into the soles of his feet, stretching his long legs and wrapping them close to each other as the lights in the café came on.

Zach sniffed, his hot chocolate super heated breath creating a fog around him as an image of a black guy with his mouth open gasping for air inside a plastic bag with duct tape tied tight around his throat popped fully formed into Zach’s head. “Confront, confront, confront,” whispered Zach. The squirrel in the tree opposite made a leap for it and Noah was on his feet straining at his lead, huffing indignantly.

“Sit,” ordered Zach, allowing Noah a little slack on the lead before pulling him back. “Sit please.” Noah all but ignored Zach’s request, sitting on his furry haunches at the limits of his lead. Zach signed and sipped fast cooling hot chocolate, envying the innocence and freedom of his companion and stared at the teasing squirrel who was now sat on the edge of a park bin. The black guy’s face loomed again fixed in an agonising death throe.

The phone in Zach’s coat pocket ping-pinged and he dragged off a glove with his teeth before frantically rummaging and answering.

“Hello.”

“Hey Zach, where are you?”

Zach blinked at the mysterious voice and set his mug down on the table beside him. “Who’s this please?”

“Neal.”

“Oh hi Neal,” said Zach, putting as much enthusiasm into his voice as possible and switched his phone to the other ear.

“Where are you?” asked Neal, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Erm… I’m in the park,” replied Zach, fiddling with his glove and trying to get his chilled hand back into warmth

“Ok, nice talking to you whoever you are, can you put Zach on the phone now please.”

“What?” asked Zach, momentarily stunned.

“Zach what’s the matter? You’ve said all but ten words,” asked Neal, the tone of concern increasing.

Zach sighed and reluctance made him thin his lips as he watched the squirrel disappear into the bin. “I had a really horrific nightmare last night and it’s left me feeling…” Zach trailed off and stared at the buttons on his jacket. “Uncomfortable. I had one about two months ago that was pretty awful as well. Intense actually. I’m just not feeling too good right now.”

“I can understand that,” stated Neal matter-of-factly.

“You can?” asked Zach feebly, doubt and hesitancy making him feel like a child.

“Yeah, I used to get really doozers when I was a kid. Scared the crap out of me,” snorted Neal and Zach imagined his friend shaking his head.

“Right, but I’m not a kid Neal I’m a 30 year old.”

“So what’s the difference, Zach. A nightmare’s a nightmare. Even I still have ‘em every now and then and they freak me out.”

“Really?” asked Zach, a doubtful frown creasing his brow as he shifted in his chair, curling his body against the cold. “Do you - do they - seem really real. Say like, if you had the dream and then a couple of weeks later you saw something that looked like, exactly like, what you saw in your dream?”

“Nah, I’ve never had that but I couldn’t go in the garage for three months at one point.” Neal laughed.

A weak smile curved Zach’s lips and suddenly he felt the cold stab at him. Noah was on his feet. Zach took the prompt and was up and on his own feet walking slowly away from the café.

“So, Zach, I guess you don’t want to meet up for this talk we had scheduled about the production company, being as though you’re not here which is why I’m ringing you.”

“Oh shit!” hissed Zach, stalling half way down the path he was following and turned on his heel. “Oh my god, I completely forgot. I could come now only I’ve got Noah with me and..”

“Don’t worry Zach another day,” interjected Neal.

“No we should do it now,” said Zach, hovering and staring expectantly down the path ahead of him. “Can I bring Noah?”

“Yeah sure bring the mut.”

“He’s not a mut,” objected Zach, a genuine smile creasing his face as he broke into a confident stride.

“Hound then,” teased Neal.

“He’s not one of those either,” said Zach, picking up his pace along the path. “He’s a lovely poochy doggy,” crooned Zach, bending down and blowing kisses at Noah who trotted obediently beside him.

“OK I’ve changed my mind don’t bring the dog.” Neal’s voice was flat.

Zach ground to a doubt filled halt in the middle of the path. “Are you serious?”

“Jesus man. No I’m not serious, Zach get your ass over here.” Relief flood through Zach like hot chocolate as Neal hung up. Zach then hot footed it through the park with Noah bounding along beside him, eventually making his way through busy New York streets with only occasional looming image of a gasping face. He arrived at his friend’s house and was welcomed by open arms.

“Jesus man, you growing a beard?” exclaimed Neal as he gripped Zach in a bear hug. “Almost as good as mine.”

“Better actually,” sniped Zach, rubbing at his two day growth and pulling off his hat a scarf. He loosed Noah who trotted about sniffing at furniture and table corners. The homely feel of Neal’s house made Zach feel instantly at ease and he found himself a gap on the lumpy sofa between piles of paper and books. It was where he stayed for the remainder of the day, a constant supply of coffee and food finding him as he chatted and joked and worked with his friend on their production company ideas.

Lengthy phone calls to LA contacts and pizza delivery carried Zach into the late hours that crossed over into the small hours and he eventually yawned more than he could create coherent thought, crashing out on the sofa on top of a pile of contract papers.

Zach drifted awake in the dark a few hours later, a crunch of papers under his body answering his brief vague self question of ‘where in the hell?’ before his bladder protested loudly making him shift up from the sofa and stagger to find a bathroom. He returned to the sofa still half asleep trying not to open his eyes too much. His foot nudged Noah who was splayed out along the side of the sofa before finding an empty pizza box that threatened to topple him. “Jesus.”

The sofa protested loudly as Zach collapsed onto it, contract papers rustling under him as he tried to find the sleeping position he had left a few minutes earlier. He was soon drifting and an image of a guy with blue eyes smiled at him. Zach smiled back and shifted on the sofa. The guy with blue eyes ran his hands over Zach’s naked thighs and Zach turned on his side and tried to shift his hips as he felt fingers play with his ass, watching the guy with blue eyes rise above him. Images flitted behind Zach’s eyes and he saw a teasing cock rub against his ass and then he was pushing and he could feel the cock in his ass and the guy with blue eyes was smiling. Zach pushed more, wanting more, wanting the guy with blue eyes deeper inside him and wanting a mouth on his own cock and he wanted to come but he couldn’t. Zach begged the guy with the blue eyes who said nothing but smiled instead and rose over Zach, grabbing Zach’s cock that was so swollen and ready to come it looked like it was going to burst. “Chris.”

“Zach!”

“What?!” Zach blinked and startled. A hand was gripping his shoulder. The room was light.

“Zach. Time to wake up. Who’s Chris?”

Zach looked up, wide eyed into Neal’s face that was looming over him. “Erm.. a guy. I dunno.”

“Time to get up, it’s 7.30am,” mumbled Neal and wandered off across the lounge, tripping over a pizza box. “I’ll put some coffee on.”

Zach sagged on the sofa and surveyed the devastation of his make shift bed before closing his eyes. The guy with blue eyes smiled at him and Zach’s lips curved slightly. “Chris,” he whispered, feeling the pressure of his erection. “I wish you were real.”  
………………………

Three weeks later and Zach was buoyant. The play’s reviews were outstanding. He was exhausted but high on adrenaline and enthusiasm and the buzz of the after party was doing his mood wonders and although not glitterati as such, he could taste achievement. People bustled around him and the flash of a camera bulb made him momentarily blind before he was trying to hold onto his tongue and give some reasonably coherent response to an interviewer who had asked him a question about something; his mind had already blanked.

“Well it was a great opportunity to work with some amazing people and, you know, and I’m incredibly fortunate – I consider myself incredibly fortunate right now.” Zach was rambling and he knew it but the interviewer did not seem to care and asked him another question which this time he heard.

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t look that far ahead. I’d love to go back to LA obviously, I have a home there but obviously I couldn’t pass up this great opportunity here in New York.” Zach winced internally hoping he hadn’t fluffed any opportunity that may come his way should an executive review the interview and at the same time hoped he hadn’t come across as a blatant opportunist using and abusing the play’s popularity to push him further into the eyes of said executives. He craned his hearing over the chorus of bystander chatter trying to hear the interviewer’s next question.

“Er.. At the moment I’m here in New York working on my production company,” ‘not that I’m not available but I am, Mr Executive, whoever you may be,’ “and developing projects which, you know, I can’t say too much about at the moment,” ‘I only wish, just give me a phone call, lets do business,’ “but, you know, things look good at the moment.” ‘I wish.’ Zach suddenly wished the questions would stop coming and blanked again as he completely missed the next volley from the interviewer.

“I would hope so,” said Zach, making a blind stab in the dark and nodding, flashing his best attempt at a smile before looking left and right for help. Help did arrive in the form of a publicity usher who beckoned urgently and Zach made his goodbyes to the interviewer and hastily dived for the safety in numbers afforded by his cast fellows. He hovered at the back of the group as they posed in front of a billboard backdrop for photographers and Zach found he was genuinely smiling.

The evening unfolded into drinks and chatter and networking and Zach signed autographs and posed for photos with people he barely new who gushed about who they knew and whom they’d met recently until Zach started to feel a pain behind his eyes. A hand at his elbow then whispered “Poi,” which was his cue to bid farewell to the party posers and with relief, Zach squeezed himself into a yellow cab along with a couple of his cast fellows waiting outside the theatre.

A couple of blocks later and Zach tumbled awkwardly out of the cab outside Poi, a restaurant serving a standard New York cuisine and thankfully, Zach noticed feeling more relieved, closed to the general public for the evening. He joined the small group of cast and selected crew members and stared vacantly at a evening dining menu before hearing someone else order braised chicken salad and decided he would have that too.

Chatter around the table was full of congratulations and ‘oh my god can you believe it’ and Zach sipped ice water adding the odd “I know, amazing,” into the conversation. His chicken salad arrived and he dug in, the first bite making him realise he was actually starving and at that point his wavering attention on the conversation around him faltered completely and his world for the next ten minutes became chicken salad. Scraps of conversation finally started drifting back to him as he chased a particularly unco-operative piece of chicken around the edge of his plate. His ear caught something someone at the far end of the table was saying that made glance up.

“I know, can you believe it? They found him in his apartment, he’d been there for about three days.”

Zach watched a newspaper passed across the table, his chicken salad forgotten.

“Let me see,” said Cathy, the executive director sat directly opposite Zach. She stretched out her hand and was dutifully passed the newspaper. “Oh God, I know him I’m sure. Paul do you know him?” asked Cathy and turned to the fat balding lighting director next to her, showing him the newspaper.

Zach watched Paul shove a large piece of avocado in his mouth, lick his lips and shake his head. “No,” he mumbled. “Where’s he from? What’s he been in?”

“He was in a production of Othello off broadway about five years go,” offered Deidre, from the end of the table. Zach glanced at the publicity editor who doubled as wardrobe assistant when the fancy took her. “He’s Canadian,” she continued, leaning over her plate, her voluminous cleavage sagging out of her gaudy top. “Went to LA two years ago and he’s been in several TV series since then. Small parts, nothing special.”

“Probably sexual,” said Cathy, handing the newspaper down the table into others’ grasping hands.

“What the TV series?” queried Paul, stuffing another piece of avocado in his mouth.

“No, the death,” chorused Cathy and Deidre. “He was found asphyxiated,” continued Deidre, her cleavage shoving her plate across the table as she leaned further forward. “It’s being treated as a possible homicide by the LAPD though. They say several actors, minor, amateur, nothing special,” Deirdre waved her hand dismissively, the bracelets on her wrist jangling as she spoke, “have been found dead in suspicious circumstances over the past three months. This is the first higher profile one though so they’re treating it with a bit more, I dunno, seriousness.”

Paul grunted. “Well if he was Canadian we’re all better off.”

“Paul!”

The chorus of disapproval around the table faded in Zach’s ears as he watched the newspaper passed from person to person heading in his direction. The chicken salad sat heavily in his stomach. “Was he black?” murmured Zach, watching the paper slide into the hands of Jacob, one of the lead actors, who was sat next to him.

“God that’s terrible,” said Jacob, handing the paper to Zach. “Do you know him?”

Zach’s hand trembled and his fingers crushed the edge of the newspaper. He stared blankly at the publicity shot of a young, black actor by the name of Harquin Lambert. Zach scanned the mass of words in front of him, ‘asphyxiated’, ‘plastic bag’, ‘duct tape’.

Zach dropped the newspaper and abruptly stood up. “Excuse me I have to go to the bathroom.”

“You ok, Zach?” asked Jacob, but Zach was already moving across the restaurant that suddenly seemed to be spinning and the floor under his feet had become uneven. He stumbled into the men’s room and headed for a stall. Jacob, wearing a concerned expression, was waiting for him when he came out.

“Zach, are you – Oh my god you look terrible.”

“Chicken salad’s off the menu,” stated Zach flatly and lurched to one of the basins splashing cold water over his sweat slicked, pale face.

“God, I’d better go tell Deidre,” said Jacob, heading for the door.

“NO. Don’t,” snapped Zach, swallowing against the acrid taste in his mouth as he watched Jacob’s reflection pause at the door. “It’s not Deidre’s chicken, it’s my chicken,” added Zach. “I’ve just had too much to drink on an empty stomach and ate my food too fast on top of it. For God’s sake, don’t go making a scene and shutting down the restaurant.”

Jacob eyed Zach and nodded. “Alright. Maybe you should go home Zach.”

“I’m fine I’ll be out in a minute, Jacob.”

“Alright.”

Zach turned on the cold water again as he heard the door close as Jacob left. An image of a gasping mouth inside a plastic bag tied with duct tape flashed into Zach’s mind and he doused his face in cold water again before turning off the tap. The men’s room filled with silence. Zach stared at his reflection in the mirror, another flash of memory taking him back to his own bathroom and the nights alone after the nightmares.

“Confront,” whispered Zach, staring unwavering at his own dark eyes. He swallowed. Water dripped from his face onto his shirt and he turned away from the mirror grabbing paper towels and wiped his face dry. He checked in the mirror again, brushing away the small snow flecks of paper towel that had worked their way into his five o’clock shadow before running his fingers through his hair. He took a deep breath and ignored an image of duct tape as it flashed in his mind and headed back out into the restaurant.

“Oh God, are you ok Zach?” asked Cathy as he took his seat at the table. “Jacob said you threw up.”

Zach faced a table of stares. “Yeah I’m fine. Excitement. Nerves. Cocktails. Food. I’m fine.”

The faces around the table became disinterested immediately and Zach threw a sideways look at Jacob who threw one right back. Zach reached for his ice water and was mid sip when Deidre waved a folded magazine at him.

“Look at this honey, this’ll make you feel better,” said Deirdre, a mouthful of some cream and raspberry desert. “Look. Beautiful.”

Zach took the proffered magazine and stared at a compilation of press images, various celebrities and other media moguls posing at some LA gala. Zach blanked. “What am I looking at, Deirdre?”

“Other side,” mumbled the publicity agent through a mouthful of raspberries and cream.

Zach turned the glossy magazine over and felt his heart stop as a blonde guy with big blue eyes smiled back at him. Zach was on his feet. “Excuse me, I have to go home now.”

A chorus of ‘Oh Zach, are you not ok?’ and such like erupted around the table and Zach made noises to the effect he was tired and everything was ok and ignored the look Jacob threw at him before hastily leaving the restaurant. He climbed into a yellow cab and was thankful that it smelled only of the sickly orange air freshner that dangled from the cabbies rear view mirror.

It was then Zach realised he was still clutching the magazine Deidre had given him and sat stock still in the back of the cab not daring even a glance at the glossy pages that stuck to his sweating palms. He waited until he was safe inside his apartment and sat on his couch in stark lamp light before he laid the magazine out in front of him on the coffee table. The guy with big blue eyes smiled at him. Zach poured over the image and read the brief publicity caption underneath.

‘Chris Pine takes a break from his role in Albert Siegfield’s ‘Man for All Seasons’ and enjoys the company of his companion Lucy Milton at the Rockstarter’s Charity event, LA.’

“Chris,” whispered Zach. The woman in the picture had her arm possessively wrapped around the actor. Zach ignored the sinking feeling that close proximity implied. He ran his fingers over the picture, tracing the edges of the face that smiled back at him with big blue eyes. Zach leaned forward, his nose hovering inches from the photograph and he stared at every detail the camera had managed to capture. It was him, definitely him, the guy with blue eyes and the willing mouth.

Zach collapsed backwards onto his couch and stared vacantly ahead, his mind churning over images of dreams. He searched through each one he could remember, trying to find the first time he had dreamt about that willing mouth and make sure it was the same blue eyes and not some other blue eyes. Zach stomach fluttered and his pulse jumped excitedly.

For the remainder of the night Zach paced about his apartment trying to burn off nervous energy, staring occasionally at the magazine and searching the internet for all he could find about Chris Pine. With a pounding headache Zach eventually shed his clothing and crawled into bed just as the sun was coming up. He did not dream.

………………….

“Fuck it.” Zach slammed the phone down on the receiver and kicked the table leg. His cat shifted from sitting on top of a pile of papers and threw a disgusted look at Zach before jumping to the floor. “Sorry Harold,” murmured Zach.

Six weeks since the end of the play and Zach was idle. He did not do idle well. The production company was crawling at a success rate that would have made a snail’s pace seem olympic and Zach felt a void of uncertainty gnawing at his insides while some unseen external pressure to achieve made his shoulders ache.

Zach leaned back in his chair and cocked his feet onto the desk, stretching his long legs straight and stared out of his apartment window into the grey afternoon. An image of a guy with blue eyes drifted into his mind and smiled at him but Zach wasn’t in the mood. “Not now Chris.”

An image of a guy with dark hair and a face purpled by the garrotte around his throat flashed into Zach’s head instead. “Oh, please,” groaned Zach, a feeling of desperation rising inside him.

The sound of Noah’s collar jangled in the background accompanied by excited huffing and low growling. Zach glanced over his shoulder and watched Noah grapple with a chew toy, shaking it so vigorously that Zach wondered how his dog had not managed to develop brain damage. Noah continued giving a floor display and Zach finally managed a weak smile, shaking his head in mild amusement. Harold sat on the back of the couch meditating.

The phone on Zach’s desk trilled. “Noah, stop, please.” Zach clicked his fingers and Noah dropped the chew toy. The phone trilled again as Zach dropped his legs from the desk, wincing slightly at the stiffness behind his knees and with a final “No,” at Noah, picked up the phone.

“Hello, Zachary Quinto.”

“Hi Zach, it’s Julia.”

Zach’s brows lifted at the sound of his agent’s voice on the end of the line, an expectant jump in his mood as instinctive hope rose in him. “Hey there, what’s new?”

Julia launched into a potted history of local LA gossip before gabbling away about industry gossip and Zach grabbed a pen, doodling on a notebook in front of him as he listened attentively. The longer Julia rambled on the more Zach doodled and the small piece of hope in him died a slow death until something Julia said snapped him back to the present.

“So what do you think?” asked Julia. “I really think it would be worth you attending. I’ve already got you in and although it would be the usual photo opportunity I’ve got an all but firm say-so on a ‘yes’.”

Zach blinked. “Er.. when, when is this?” Zach scrabbled around his desk for his diary.

“Tuesday.”

“That’s in two days?” asked Zach vaguely, staring at his all but empty diary. Hope fluttered back into life.

“Yes. Can you make it?” asked Julia, the sound of her hand muffling the phone momentarily. A mumbled background discussion sounded in Zach’s ear. “Well can you?” asked Julia, her voice returning at full volume.

“Yes of course,” said Zach instantly. “I can be there as soon as.”

“Excellent,” said Julia, her tone all business and efficiency as she launched into another stream of instructions and information. Zach scribbled everything down in his diary and by the time he put the phone down he was feeling full of hope. Noah took cue and grabbed his chew toy as Zach stood up from his desk.

“We’re going to LA buddy!” enthused Zach, making a lunge for Noah who dived playfully out of the way, huffing as he continued to bound around the lounge. Zach laughed and headed straight for his bedroom, dragging out a small case from the wardrobe and began packing immediately.

The day proceeded after a fashion. Zach made phone calls to friends in New York and phone calls to old friends in LA, including a begging one to his brother to let him stay in his spare apartment until Zach collapsed on the couch and ate a light supper. He lounged about watching some appalling film on the TV until his eyes felt suitably heavy and he crawled into bed. He drifted asleep thinking of Chris. The dream that followed was not the usual Chris kind of dream.

It started the same way. Chris was smiling at Zach and Zach was smiling back and the house was full of people and some kind of party was going on. Chris pressed his body close to Zach and Zach felt horny and watched Chris’ mouth as it whispered something that Zach couldn’t quite hear. Zach glanced at unknown faces as Chris led him through the party and suddenly they were in a bedroom that was all greys and whites and Chris pulled at Zach’s clothes and Zach pushed Chris onto the bed.

Chris stared at Zach with big blue eyes and Zach watched as Chris licked the end of Zach’s cock. Zach heard himself groan and mumbled something incoherent about crosswords as Chris teased Zach’s slit with a willing tongue before sucking hard. Zach squirmed on the bed and noticed a large fish made out of wire in the corner of the room. Chris smiled and took Zach’s cock in his mouth and swallowed it to the hilt.

Zach wanted to come and crawled across the bed trying to push his ass onto Chris’ fingers that were teasing and just not deep enough inside. Zach looked at Chris who smiled and Zach was whimpering pulling at Chris’ hips. Zach felt Chris’ weight on top of him and felt Chris’ hands around his cock and Zach tried to align his ass with Chris’ really large cock and push back because he wanted Chris now because he felt like he was going to come and Chris had to fuck Zach now before the giant wire fish that was wobbling in the corner fell on top of them.

Zach begged and tried to grind his ass down onto Chris’ cock and Zach could feel Chris’ cock in his ass but it just wasn’t deep enough and Zach started to slide off the edge of the bed and the wire fish in the corner started to fall. Zach dragged Chris onto the bed and Chris smiled and grabbed Zach’s legs and thrust his cock into Zach’s ass and Zach begged again, frantically grasping at Chris’ hips to pull him deeper but it just wasn’t deep enough.

Zach started yelling at Chris but Chris just smiled and Zach watched but couldn’t move as Chris fucked him in the grey and white room and the wire fish toppled over and landed on Chris. Zach screamed as sharp wire exploded through Chris’ chest as the fish impaled him, spikes of metal erupting out of the centre of Chris’ head as Zach lay helpless underneath him watching the fish tear Chris apart.

Zach screamed, scrabbling at the covers that trapped his legs and tumbled off his bed. “FUCK!” Carpet grazed his elbow as he scrambled around on the floor of his bedroom, knocking over the bedside lamp as he lunged trying to turn it on. The lamp rolled and landed on the floor, the shade breaking the force of impact and bouncing off across the bedroom leaving Zach kneeling and shaking on the floor, bathed in stark light.

 

............

The club was busy but not overly so, the music relatively loud and enough to make Zach’s ears twinge a little. He pushed his way through the crowd scanning the faces around him. Some smiled back, a few looked him up and down and then smiled whilst others paid him little attention at all. He found what he was looking for sat the bar.

Zach pushed his way unceremoniously through a group of standing chatterers and eased himself onto a stool facing a guy with blonde hair sat next to him. Zach stared fixedly at the guy and watched him throw back one of the tequila shots he had lined up. Music pumped in the background and Zach stared until blue eyes looked pointedly at him.

“Can I help you?” The guy’s voice was rich with a hint of California sunshine.

“I need to talk to you,” said Zach.

Blue eyes smiled at him. “Is that a euphemism?”

Zach blinked. “No.”

A change in the music brought a responding ‘whoop’ from the chatterers near the bar and Zach watched several head off to the dance floor laughing and joking.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Zach’s eyes snapped back to large blues that were giving him a questioning once over. “I’m an actor, I was in a TV series called..”

“That’s where I know you from.” An interupting finger wagged in front of Zach’s nose cutting him short.

“My name’s Zachary Quinto.” Another shot of tequila left the bar and was downed. “That’s not such a good idea. Chris,” added Zach, an image of orange and cream shag pile flashing in his mind.

Blue eyes levelled at Zach. “None of your business. So you know my name,” stated Chris, leaning on the bar and pulling a third shot of tequila into his fingers.

“Yes I do and I need to talk to you,” said Zach, his eyes crawling over Chris’ profile opposite him. “It’s very important.” Zach braced his foot against the floor as he was shoved from behind, toppling on his stool slightly. His face drifted close to Chris and he caught his first scent of testosterone and cologne. Zach’s pulse jumped.

“OK shoot,” said Chris, knocking back another tequila and pulling a face. “God damn it, this stuff’s disgusting. I think I’ll have some more.”

Zach watched Chris drum his hands on the bar and was a little shocked when Chris shouted at the bar tender for attention. This was not the smiling guy Zach was used to in his dreams. Reality was indeed a little different. Zach waited until the bar tender had lined up another five shots of tequila in front of Chris before leaning forward slightly to talk.

“I think, I think it’s best if we go and talk somewhere a little quieter,” said Zach as a thumping track started to make his ears hurt. “I think it would be easier and..”

“Whatever you’ve gotta say, say it here, say it now, because I’m not going anywhere,” interrupted Chris, slurring slightly and threw Zach a look before downing another tequila. “Get on with it.”

Zach decided he did not like this Chris at all, in fact he was just down right rude. Frustration rushed through Zach making him bold and he grabbed Chris’ arm, leaning his face close and whispering harshly in Chris’ ear.

“We need to talk now. I think you’re in danger of being killed and I want you – need you - think you need to listen to what I’ve got to say. I’m not going to stand by and watch you drink yourself unconscious when what you should be doing is listening to me because I’m trying to save your life.”

Zach was shaking. The combination of Chris’ bicep under his hand, the scent of Chris’ testosterone laden cologne and his own adrenaline rush was giving Zach a hard on. Pumping music filled the silence between Zach’s lips and Chris’ ear before Zach was speaking again. “Are you going to come?” asked Zach quietly, his fingers digging into Chris’ bicep.

Chris turned his head slowly and Zach dragged his eyes from Chris’ ear to fix on two big blue serious eyes that travelled over Zach’s face and seemed to linger on his lips.

“OK, you’ve got my attention,” said Chris, shifting on the bar stool. “You got a car?”

Zach swallowed hard and let his hand drift from Chris’ arm. “Yeah, it’s outside,” replied Zach, nodding and beginning to wonder at the change in the man in front of him.

“Let’s go,” said Chris, tossing a $50 bill onto the bar and abandoning the tequila shots.

Zach led Chris from the club to the parking lot outside. They walked in complete silence and even when they got into Zach’s car little was said.

“You want me to take you home?” asked Zach, turning the key in the ignition.

“No, that’s not a good idea,” said Chris, pulling on his seatbelt. “Let’s go to your place. We can talk there and then I catch a cab.”

Zach nodded wordlessly and drove home to his LA apartment. The journey was quick but conducted in complete silence and Zach glanced every now and then at a subdued Chris who did nothing but look out of the passenger window. Zach pulled up in front of his home and both men got out of the car, remaining silent until they were inside Zach’s apartment.

“You’ve got a cat,” said Chris, watching a sleek black form dive off the couch and skulk off toward an open plan kitchen when Zach turned the lights on.

“Yeah, that’s Harold,” replied Zach. “I’ve got a dog too. Are you allergic?”

“No,” said Chris, hovering just inside the room. “I like cats. Not so keen on dogs.”

“That’s ok, Noah’s locked in the utility room,” said Zach, throwing his keys into a bowl on the coffee table and digging his hands in his jeans. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Erm… shall I, put some coffee on?”

“No, no coffee,” said Chris, swaying slightly as he eyed the couch with what Zach thought looked like suspicion. “Let’s just get this over with. Say what you’ve got to say and then I’ll get a cab and get out of your life.” Chris finally slumped onto the sofa and rubbed his eyes, yawning and by Zach’s best estimation, was slightly the worse for wear courtesy of six shots of tequilla.

Zach stood awkwardly in the middle of the room and searched for some way to start talking. All the adrenaline he had felt at the club had evaporated and instead of being slightly turned on and full of urgency, he was now nursing reluctance. “I don’t really know what to say,” he began, watching Chris who appeared to be making an examination of the carpet between his feet. An uneasy silence began punctuated by the sound of Harold’s collar bell knocking against a food dish in the kitchen. “I think someone’s going to try to kill you,” stated Zach and the silence returned.

“Why do you think that?” asked Chris quietly, staring at the carpet before reaching down and pulling at the laces in his Allstars.

“I think because…” Zach’s throat closed around his words. Pressure started building in Zach’s chest and he was sure he could hear his heart beat.

“You’re a friend of Harquin’s aren’t you,” said Chris suddenly, looking up from the couch and fixing hard blue eyes on Zach. “I’m mean were a friend.”

Cold washed through Zach’s insides and slicked his palms. He stared at Chris’ who stared back unblinking. “I thought so,” said Chris, standing up and swaying slightly before moving to the front door of Zach’s apartment. “Look you don’t need to worry about me, I don’t think I’m in any danger and the police are on the case.”

Zach was at Chris’ side in two long legged strides. His hand gripped the firm bicep again and his other covered Chris’ hand that was already on the door handle. “No wait, you have to listen to me you can’t go,” said Zach, urgency making his words tumble and the scent of Chris sending his stomach fluttering. “You have to listen to me.”

Chris’ eyes flicked briefly right and left to Zach’s hands before travelling Zach’s face. “OK,” he breathed, “I’m all ears, Zachary.”

A sensation crawled up Zach’s neck and into his hair as he watched Chris’ eyes linger over his face. Zach’s lips parted slowly with hesitancy and he caught Chris’ eyes dropping to briefly to watch. He felt a familiar heaviness in his balls and tried to ignore the heat he was feeling under the palms of his hands. Chris’ hand moved slightly on the door handle and Zach’s moved with it.

“Promise you’ll listen until I’ve finished,” whispered Zach, trying to lock his knees that were trembling slightly.

“I promise,” said Chris slowly, his eyes smiling as his lips curved.

Zach’s clung on to his dissolving will, his field of vision filled with blue eyes and a willing mouth before words were tumbling out of his own. “I’ve been having dreams, nightmares,” he began and the more he talked the easier it became.

He described every detail of the nightmare about David Thatcher and the newspaper cutting he had found. He then told Chris about his visit to the doctor and described the Harquin nightmare. Zach hesitated a little as he confessed to Chris about the guy with blue eyes thinking it best to omit the sexual content of those dreams. Instead he said only they were at a house party. Zach went on, describing the dinner at Poi and the newspaper article about Harquin and how embarrassed he had been about throwing up. He then told Chris about the magazine with Chris’ picture and confessed to searching on the internet.

Finally, he recounted his phone call with Julia his agent. “And that night,” said Zach haltingly, swallowing against another wave of guilt as he omitted details of the sexual content of the nightmare encounter. “At a party again, I saw you..”

“Killed,” finished Chris quietly, a deep groove from a frown creasing his brow.

“Yes,” whispered Zach, his hold on Chris’ arm having loosened during the retelling of events had become a hand that tentatively stroked the bicep beneath the expensive shirt. “I ..erm.. I’m sure it, sounds crazy.”

“You could say that,” said Chris, shifting the hand that still rested on the door handle underneath Zach’s and Zach responded by running his thumb across the back of Chris’ hand. Chris adjusted his stance, moving slightly closer to Zach who responded instinctively and leaned in, his eyes fixed on Chris’. “So you’ve been dreaming about me for how long?” asked Chris quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly but holding an intensity that made Zach’s insides quiver.

“About six months,” replied Zach, his nose full of Chris’ scent and his thoughts like a lightening bolt in a round room.

“What are we doing?”

Zach blinked and felt heat crawl up his neck. “Hanging out.”

“Hanging out in the same way with the other guys you dream about?” asked Chris, swaying a little and smiling broadly. Zach felt a hand ghost against his hips, scattering his thinking into a thousand million fragments.

“No,” breathed Zach, mesmerised by Chris’ blue eyes and suddenly scrabbling mentally attempting to pull his mind back onto the right track of conversation. “I mean only you. In my dreams, not, not the other guys. Unless you meant like right now and no, I haven’t, hung out with any other guys from my dreams like we’re hanging out, right now. Not like we’re hanging out right now, we’re just talking.” Zach swallowed hard.

“Yeah, we’re just talking,” said Chris, suddenly dropping his eyes from Zach’s face and withdrawing his hand from the door. “Look I’d better go.”

Zach panicked, a rush of anxiety making words tumble out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to come on to you. I’m not some weirdo that tries to pick up straight guys in bars and fuck with heads to get them to sleep with me..”

“It’s ok,” interrupted Chris, fidgeting suddenly and pointed at the door. “Don’t worry about. Are you going to let me out?”

The look Chris gave Zach basically said ‘Let Me Go’ and the excited fluttering in Zach’s stomach turned into a lead ball. Zach opened the front door admitting a cool breeze. He stood aside hugging himself and stared at the floor as Chris brushed past him.

“I’m not crazy,” said Zach, desperation welling up inside him. He glanced up at Chris’ who was already half way down the path. Chris paused and turned, levelling Zach with blue eyes that seemed to blaze in the light spilling out of the apartment. Zach hovered in the doorway, tightening his arms around his chest. “You don’t believe me,” he said quietly.

Chris chewed his lip and tilted his head in what Zach thought looked like a doubtful appraisal. “I’m drunk,” said Chris finally. “I’m going to go home, sleep this off. I need to think a bit about what you’ve said.”

Zach nodded wordlessly and began pinching his lower lip with his fingers. The encounter with Chris had been slightly surreal from the outset and seeing the man from his dreams just standing in the middle of the path outside his apartment, staring at him, just added to Zach’s sense he was standing on a threshold of chaos.

“Ok,” breathed Zach finally, watching Chris offer a weak wave before turning away and weaving slightly down the path. “Wait,” Zach said suddenly, a thought exploding in his head and took a step out through the door. “Weren’t you going to get a cab?”

Chris had reached the end of the path and grabbed hold of the gate post, pulling himself around to face Zach again. “I live two blocks away,” he said, waving a hand in vague direction. “The walk’ll do me good.”

Zach nodded and watched Chris begin to meander away before another thought exploded in his head and sent him hurtling down the path. “Wait,” said Zach, urgency in his voice as he skidded to a halt just outside his gate. Chris turned slowly and pulled a frown making Zach immediately apologetic. “Sorry, I..”

“What is it?” asked Chris, tiredness in his voice and an expression of mild annoyance playing across his face.

Zach took several steps along the path towards Chris, swallowing nervously. “When you first mentioned Harquin, I - did you know him?” asked Zach.

Chris titled his head and chewed his lip again conducting what Zach thought was another doubt filled appraisal. The crease in Chris’ brow however seemed to indicate he was thinking hard about something and after what Zach interpreted was an aeon of uncomfortable silence Chris finally spoke. “I was sleeping with him.”

Zach eyes widened in astonishment as Chris’ revelation slammed home.

“I’m going home. Goodnight,” stated Chris, waving again and walked away. Zach, dumbstruck, stood in the street until Chris eventually disappeared around a corner out of sight.

Zach wandered slowly back into his apartment and shut the door, sliding to the floor as his knees finally gave way. His mind turned over and over; images of Chris at the club, Chris on his couch, his hand on Chris’ hand, Chris’ eyes, Chris’ words and the meaning of ‘I was sleeping with him’. Harold padded over and began a sniffing inspection of Zach’s hands.

“Can you smell him on me?” whispered Zach, stroking Harold’s sleek fur. “He’s real.”

…………………………

It was late evening the following day when there was a knock at Zach’s front door. After a fitful night’s sleep full laden with images of Chris’ willing mouth and urgent hot breaths Zach was laying, half dressed, stretched out on his couch drifting in and out of doze. A second, louder knock at the door brought Zach blinking into full consciouness and he heaved Harold off his bare chest, wincing as scrabbling claws dug into the skin on his thighs. “Harold!”

Zach padded across his lounge on bare feet as a third insistent knock sounded on the front door bringing a bark from Noah who was suddenly beside Zach and sniffing at the threshold. “Basket,” ordered Zach, pointing across the room and waited until Noah had dutifully sloped off before opening the door. Zach peered around the edge of the door, shielding most of his half dressed form. His eyes widened as a quizzical Chris stepped back up onto the porch.

“Am I interrupting?” asked Chris, leaning slightly and looking past Zach into the lounge before staring at Zach’s astonished face.

“No, I’m alone,” blurted Zach, the sight of Chris seemed to turn his thinking into half cooked scrambled egg and make the semi in his shorts full. “I mean I was asleep on the couch. Sorry. What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to – you to, come back.”

“Can we talk inside?” asked Chris, throwing a look over his shoulder at the street. “I’m not door to door salesman.” Chris levelled blue eyes at Zach. “Sorry that sounded bad, I didn’t mean it to sound like..”

“NO!” interrupted Zach, his heart leaping and hammering in his chest. His knees seemed to be wobbling again. “Come in, please, come in.”

Zach pulled the door open wide, hiding behind it as Chris hopped up the step and strolled into the lounge. Zach shut the door and watched Harold make a dive off the couch and slink off into the open plan kitchen. Noah raised an eyebrow at Zach’s visitor, huffed and went back into a doggy doze.

Zach hovered by the door suffering an increased sense of exposure dressed only in his shorts and slung a hand in front of his crotch attempting to hide his arousal. Chris sauntered slowly across the lounge and Zach tried to tear his eyes away from Chris’ ass that seemed to be pressed into the jeans he wore. Chris turned and made a blatant blue eyed assessment of Zach’s lean, half naked form.

“I’m going to go put something on,” said Zach, moving swiftly across the lounge and heading for the bedroom. He winced internally hoping Chris had not noticed the swollen erection he was nursing, quickly dragging on a pair of black jeans and matching t-shirt before inhaling a breath to steady himself.

Zach returned bare foot to the lounge and found Chris lolling on the couch looking relaxed. Zach was about to sit down in the chair opposite when Chris stood up.

“Did you have plans this evening?” asked Chris, tugging at his t-shirt sleeves. The flex of bicep distracted Zach a little.

“What? No,” said Zach, wide eyed. “Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking about what you said last night,” began Chris, pacing a little around the coffee table, moving slowly in Zach’s direction. Zach watched Chris intently and tried to breath. “About us, hanging out, at parties,” continued Chris, his words lingering in the small space that now existed between he and Zach. “That I was killed, at a party.” Zach nodded wordlessly, his eyes fixed on Chris’. “Wanna go to a party?” asked Chris, a slight hint of amusement in his eyes.

“What?” blurted Zach, dumbfounded by Chris’ question. “What do you mean?”

“Well I was thinking,” said Chris, pushing his hands in his jean pockets, muscles shifting slightly in his forearms. “There’s only one way to find out. Come with me to a party, see if anyone there is the same in your dreams.” Chris shrugged.

Zach swallowed hard and wondered if the vibrations he was experiencing on the inside of his body were actually visible. “When?”

“Now,” said Chris, moving across the lounge towards the front door. “Come on. Put your shoes on. Don’t worry, it’s nothing fancy. It’s a place Harquin and I used to hang out at.”

Zach nodded and wobbled towards his bedroom. “Just a minute,” he said, his voice wavering slightly as went in search of shoes. He grabbed the nearest easiest thing, a pair of black thongs and stuffed his feet into them before heading back to the lounge and grabbing his keys out of a bowl on the coffee table. Chris was waiting patiently, his hand resting lightly on the door handle as Zach took a quavering breath and nodded.

“Ok, ready,” said Zach, visibly tremoring. Chris stretched out a hand and brushed it along Zach’s arm. It was warm and dry and firm and Zach’s fear depleted arousal sprang back into life. Chris smiled and opened the door.

“Let’s go see if you’re crazy,” grinned Chris. Zach feebly grinned back and followed Chris out the apartment, closing the door behind them. Chris had brought his car and Zach breathed a sigh of relief for the fact he personally did not have to drive. His thinking was scattered to the four corners of his brain and his hands were shaking so much he thought it more likely he would be the cause of Chris’ demise by wrapping them both round a lamppost.

They drove to the outskirts of LA until Chris finally turned the car into a heavily tree lined road. Zach glimpsed houses set back from the road and Chris finally pulled up and parked at the end of a driveway. The house from the front looked unoccupied, the windows hung with thick curtains but as Zach followed Chris down the side of the house he could hear music and people. It was when they got to side gate Zach pulled up short.

“What’s the matter?” asked Chris, his voice a whisper, his face obscured slightly in the gloom yet his eyes seemed to possess a light all of their own. His hand was resting on the wrought iron gate that he had already pushed half way open.

“This was in my dream,” whispered Zach urgently. “There’s a garden on the other side with a swing and woman on the swing sucking a lollipop and then there’s a door into the house with a beaded door thingy.” Zach raked his fingers through his dark hair and exhaled slowly to steady himself. Chris’ hand was on his arm again, dry and warm and Zach took a step forward suddenly wanting to be closer and to feel more warmth.

“Let’s go in,” said Chris softly. “We’re just going to take a look around. You tell me if anything else seems familiar.”

Zach nodded wordlessly and started slightly as Chris’ hand slid up around his shoulders. The next moment Zach was in the garden and swallowing hard when he saw an empty swing in one corner. There was no woman with a lollipop however nor candles or wire animals in the flower borders, but as Chris led Zach towards the sound of music and people inside the house, an open doorway covered a pink gauzy cloth greeted him.

“Not beads,” said Chris quietly, pushing aside the pink gauze, beckoning to Zach to follow him. Zach stepped over the threshold into the house and found himself in a heavily painted room of Indian reds and golds. People, a few dressed casually, others sporting bondage, sat on low chairs dotted around the room. A few glanced briefly in Zach’s direction and then went back to chatting. Zach looked at Chris and then shrugged his shoulders slightly. Chris leaned close to Zach and put his arm around Zach’s waist. “Let’s go mingle,” whispered Chris, close to Zach’s ear. Zach felt sensations crawl up his neck into the back of his hair and let Chris lead them into another room.

The music was louder and people were standing around in social groups, chatting loudly. The air was heavy with smoke and Zach smelled hash mingling with alcohol. The room was painted in a heavy purple and low lights threw most of the faces around Zach into shadow. “I’ll be back in a minute,” whispered Chris, abandoning Zach and disappeared through the crowd of people.

Zach hovered nervously, glancing from time to time at faces and hoping that it did not appear too obvious he was reconnoitring. He decided to ‘mingle’ as Chris had suggested and moved a little through the room, smiling when he was smiled at and trying not to react to the odd hand that brushed across his ass. As he drew closer to an adjoining room the music became louder and he glimpsed a staircase with a guy dressed in full bondage, spread eagle, cuffed to the spindles. Zach did not recognise any of the faces around him but there was something about the house and the setting that reminded him of his dreams.

Zach jumped slightly as he felt an around his waist but the scent of familiar cologne told him first it was Chris before a whisper close to his ear confirmed. “Drinkies.” A bottle of beer appeared in front of Zach’s nose and he reached up to accept it turning to watch Chris already taking a long drink from his own.

“I thought you were driving,” said Zach over the sound of music and voices. Chris grinned broadly slinging an arm around Zach’s waist and pressed his body close. As Chris pulled him, Zach braced a foot against the floor to steady himself, his breath catching in the back of his throat as he felt Chris’ crotch rub firmly against his groin. Zach gasped when Chris’ teeth teased his ear lobe. “I found an empty bottle and filled it with water. Trust me,” whispered Chris, his breath hot against Zach’s ear.

Zach barely suppressed a shiver as Chris’s lips played with his ear. “Act relaxed,” whispered Chris. Zach nodded mutely, the tip of the bottle in his hand hovering close to his lips as his groin flooding with heat. Chris nuzzled against Zach’s ear. “We’ll go have a look upstairs in a minute,” continued Chris in a whispery voice before pulling away slightly and taking another drink of faux beer.

Zach followed suit, putting the bottle to his lips and was shocked to taste beer in his mouth. He glanced at Chris who grinned and tightened his arm around Zach’s waist in a gesture of reassurance. ‘Trust. Me.’ Mouthed Chris and glanced meaningfully over Zach’s shoulder into the adjoining room with the staircase. Zach nodded and turned in Chris’ embrace before heading slowly into the next room.

More faces, more brief glances and nothing recognisable but something strangely familiar thought Zach and followed Chris up the staircase. The music seemed to vibrate through the floor under Zach’s feet as he and Chris moved slowly across a landing between bedrooms. Two of the bedrooms had been knocked through and Chris led Zach through a large black painted room where people lay on long, wide couches, half dressed and engaged in foreplay.

Chris set aside his bottle of faux beer pulling Zach to one side at the end of the room and pressed Zach up against the wall, leaning close to him. “So,” murmured Chris, his eyes meeting Zach’s.

Zach glanced around the room at the erotic floorshow and then back to Chris. The intensity of Chris’ gaze made Zach’s insides tremble and when Zach spoke his voice had a definite quaver. “It’s sort of the same, but slightly different,” said Zach, keeping his voice low.

“Different how?” murmured Chris, his eyes dropping briefly to Zach’s mouth as he leaned a little closer. The floor under Zach’s feet began to pump with a low resonate beat from the music downstairs that travelled up his legs into his groin and made his cock ache.

“Well.. um.. in my dream, we’re alone in a room, for starters,” began Zach slowly, his eyes drawn by a groan of pleasure coming from an all but naked threesome nearby. He quickly flicked his eyes back to Chris and the look there made his pulse jump and his groin tighten. Zach suddenly wanted to confess all. “We’re making out. Alone.”

Chris appeared to chew over Zach’s words. Zach tried to breath. The heat coming off Chris’ was bleeding through his clothing making his skin feel like it was burning. Chris leaned close and pressed his body against Zach’s. The heat increased and Zach became heady, his eyes fluttering closed as Chris’ mouth breathed words close to his ear.

“Anything else?” Chris shifted his hips. A hard arousal rubbed against Zach’s own swollen cock making Zach’s hips rise in needy response, seeking friction. It was given. Zach grasped Chris’ ass with a free hand pulling as Chris’ tongue licked his throat. “Oh god,” breathed Zach, snapping his eyes open, trying to ground himself as images of dreams flickered in his mind blending with the present. Chris slid a hand onto Zach’s crotch and gripped hard making Zach gasp and drop his near empty bottle of beer.

Zach hands were then all over Chris, grasping at the firm ass inside the tight jeans and digging fingers into arm muscle as he ground his cock against Chris’ hand. Self consciousness mixed with need as Zach glanced nervously across the room; a few eyes glanced back. He felt the buttons on his jeans loosen and suddenly Chris’ hand was inside his clothing. Zach groaned, arching his hips as Chris’ warm dry hand wrapped around his cock and began a firm stroke. “Jesus,” breathed Zach, just as Chris’ lips closed over his and filled Zach’s mouth with a hot tongue.

“Like this,” gasped Chris, breaking their kiss. Zach’s eyes snapped open to meet lusty blues.

“Yeah,” gasped Zach, laughter bubbling up from inside him as he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Nerve endings alighted as Zach felt Chris’ thumb rub over the nub of his cock and Chris’ mouth suck at his throat. “No wire fish,” gasped Zach, a smile on his lips, shuddering as sensations crawled between his legs.

Chris’ stroke faltered and he pulled his mouth away from Zach’s throat. “What did you say?” he asked, his hand stilling on Zach’s swollen cock.

Zach instinctively lifted his hips pushing his cock through Chris’ hand that loosened its grip further. Zach made a needy noise and gulped air as he focused on Chris’ face. Chris was frowning. “I said, no fire - no wire fish,” murmured Zach, offering a smile and leaning forward trying to capture Chris’ lips. Chris pulled away a little and the smile that Zach offered again quickly died.

Chris stroked Zach’s cock once. “I thought that’s what you said.”

Zach hips rose again, need humming in his veins, his grip tightening onto Chris’ arms even though he could feel the moment slipping away. “What’s the matter?” asked Zach, confusion flooding through him as Chris dragged his hand out of Zach’s pants. “What have I said? What’s wrong?”

“We should go,” said Chris, his expression having lost all lust and appeared to be hardening. “Now.”

Zach found himself abandoned and frantically stuffed his swollen cock back into his pants as Chris walked swiftly away. Scrabbling at the buttons on his jeans, Zach hastily followed, tripping over the edge of a rug and stubbing his toe as he exited the room. Chris was already at the bottom of the stairs and Zach stifled the urge to call out and make him stop. Filled with anxiety and confusion at Chris’ sudden change, Zach emerged from the house shaking and in a near panic. He caught up with Chris at the car outside.

“Get in,” said Chris abruptly, diving into the car and turning the key in the ignition. Zach tumbled into the car and pleaded with Chris to tell him what was wrong. “I need to get you home,” Chris replied. Zach stared back in disbelief. “We’ll talk then,” said Chris. The rest of the journey was conducted in silence and Zach’s stomach became a ball of lead that grew heavier as they finally pulled up outside his house.

Zach got out of the car and headed up the path to his house, opening the door his apartment and turned to see Chris get something out of the boot of the car. Zach’s stomach turned over and he watched Chris stride up the path towards him carrying something heavy in an expensive shopping bag.

Once inside the apartment Zach hovered nervously in the centre of the lounge as Chris tossed the bag on the couch and turned a serious face on Zach. A tremor ran though Zach and he hugged his arms around his chest; his toe throbbed quietly and worked to ground him as the silence in the room grew to a pitch.

“Tell me about wire fish,” said Chris quietly, a groove cutting deep across his forehead. Zach wondered where the soft lust had gone in the blue eyes that had now become brittle and sharp. Zach swallowed hard.

“There are wire fish in my dreams,” began Zach, his voice quavering. He cleared his throat and continued. “I don’t know what they are. They were in the garden the first time I dreamt. About us. Like tonight at the party. Only there weren’t any fish in the garden tonight.” Zach took a tremoring breath and dived ahead. “And then, in the dream, when I see you killed. It’s a wire fish,” Zach gulped air. “It’s in the room, with us. In the corner. We’re ..” Zach trailed off, Chris’, intense, unwavering gaze making words dry up.

“Go on,” said Chris quietly. “All of it.”

Zach took a shuddering breath, gripping the floor with his toes feeling a painful throb in his foot. “We’re in a room. White-ish. We’re on a bed. There are people in the next room. We’re fucking, you’re fucking me, on the bed. You’re leaning over me and the fish in the corner – it’s really big – and it falls and it…” Zach swallowed, an image of Chris impaled on a wire spike flashing in his head. “It stabs you. Through the chest and through you’re …head.” Zach felt wet on his cheeks, his hands instinctively raising to cover his face and wipe the tears that were spilling hot across his skin. He was shaking.

Chris leant and picked the bag off the sofa and offered it to Zach. “Open it,” he said, his voice harsh and his mouth set in a grim line.

Zach reached out and took the bag with shaky hands. It was heavy and the thing inside had awkward proportions that made the bag slip under his fingers. Zach put the bag on the coffee table in front of him with a dull clunk and dragged out the heavy object wrapped in layers of tissue paper. With fingers that were barely co-operating Zach peeled back layer after layer of rustling tissue slowly revealing a twist of wire in the shape of a large fish; a long thin spike of metal on its underside that looked as if it was for driving into the ground.

Zach raised pleading eyes to Chris’ face. “Wire fish is my safe word,” whispered Chris, stepping slowly towards Zach, reaching out a hand and brushing it gently on Zach’s arm. Zach pulled back, wide eyed and suddenly full of fear. “It’s ok, it’s ok,” said Chris, holding up his hands as Zach backed across the room. Zach’s mind was reeling and he thought his legs were going to buckle under him. His heart was hammering in his chest as Chris closed the distance between them and nearly leapt out of his chest as Chris lunged and grabbed hold of him.

“Jesus Christ, get your fucking hands off me!” yelled Zach, struggling under strong hands that gripped his arms. Chris pushed him up against a wall, pinning Zach’s body with his own and pulled Zach’s arms over his head. Zach squirmed frantically and tried to knee Chris in the groin.

“Listen to me!” hissed Chris, his mouth close to Zach’s face, blue eyes full of urgency. “Calm down. Listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you!”

Zach continued to squirm, panic sapping the strength from his limbs as he tugged futilely against Chris’ strong grip. A whimper escaped his lips but the look in Chris’ eyes spoke something and Zach stilled momentarily, his breaths tremoring as Chris held him fast.

“No one knows about my safe word,” began Chris, his voice husky and full of sincerity. “I’ve never used it. Harquin suggested I choose one but was killed before I could tell him.”

Zach hovered on the edge of relief, his panicked mind attempting to focus on Chris’ words. “I bought the fish as a, fuck you, to give to someone called Lucy Milton,” continued Chris. An image of woman hugging Chris in publicity shot flashed into Zach’s head. “She’s a fucking pain in the ass,” said Chris, his nose crinkling as he spoke. “She’s was my partner for purposes of publicity shots and used to just accompany me to parties. Nothing more. But she found out about some guy I’d been fucking a year or so ago. Young, nobody actor. David Thatcher. She moved herself into my life, insisted she was going to blow the whole thing, go to the papers. I kept seeing the David on the side and one day he turned up dead. I thought nothing of it, just something terrible and unfortunate. I started seeing Harquin and then he wound up dead too.”

As Chris spoke, Zach’s breath evened out and his body began to relax. He shifted his wrists under Chris’ hands and felt the grip loosen. The tension in Chris’ body seemed to be easing too, softening against Zach’s but still pressing close. Zach felt a familiar hardness through his jeans and realised Chris had a full erection. Heat flood into Zach’s groin.

“Lucy’s a nightmare,” said Chris, releasing one of Zach’s wrists and running a hand down Zach’s arm. “She seems to follow me everywhere. She’s always turning up at places I go and even bought an engagement ring the other day.”

Zach blinked as his mind exploded. “You think it’s her? You think- You should go to the police!”

“I have,” whispered Chris, his eyes dropping momentarily to Zach’s mouth. “Believe me, when you first turned up at the club I thought it was one of Lucy’s sick ideas. I was happy to play along knowing that the cops were watching. But when you mentioned wire fish,” Chris chuckled and ran his hand down Zach’s flank, “I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.”

Zach dropped his free hand to Chris’ hip, digging his fingers into Chris’ jeans. “You believe me?” asked Zach, a rush of adrenaline and hope travelling up into his chest. Chris’ pelvis tilted and Zach sucked in a breath as his cock was pleasantly crushed.

“Yeah, I believe you,” murmured Chris, his blue eyes meeting Zach’s and his mouth hovering just out of lip’s reach. “Even though, at the same time, everything you’ve said is unbelievable.”

Zach surrendered as Chris’ lips closed over his own, hungrily sucking at Chris’ tongue as it delved into his mouth. Zach started making needy noises, his breathing hitching as his jeans were loosened and Chris’ hand pulled his cock free. In several awkward strides they were in Zach’s bedroom and Zach was dragging himself out of his clothes. Chris was all over him, hot breaths and warm dry hands that gripped Zach’s ass and pushed him onto the bed.

Zach crawled across the bed, pushing the covers onto the floor in a pile and watched wide eyed as a naked Chris slithered over him. “Tell me what’s it like in your dream,” breathed Chris, his teeth grazing across Zach’s chest before teasing at a nipple. “What do I do?”

Zach groaned and ground his cock against Chris’ that ground back. “Oh god,” gasped Zach, his breath catching in his throat. “You. You suck my cock. And I watch.”

Chris grinned and kissed Zach, his tongue delving once before he slid down Zach’s body. Zach propped himself up onto his elbows, his legs spreading a little around Chris as a warm dry hand grabbed his cock. Zach’s eyes opened wide and he held his breath, watching Chris smile up at him before closing willing lips over the end of Zach’s cock. “Oh fuck,” groaned Zach, curling his body and threading his fingers into Chris’ hair. Chris looked up at Zach with big blue eyes and teased Zach’s slit with his tongue. Zach wimpered.

Zach dissolved in pleasure as Chris sucked and then hollowing out his cheeks, took Zach deep into his throat. Zach collapsed back onto the bed, his hips rising and meeting each of Chris’ pumping movements until Chris was licking at the swollen nub of Zach’s cock and speaking in husky whispers. “What else do I do?”

Zach lifted his head and opened his eyes to look at Chris who had his own full cock in hand, stoking it slowly. “You fuck me,” growled Zach, throwing his head back as Chris’ fingers pressed firmly against his ass.

“Have you got anything?” asked Chris, grazing his teeth across Zach’s thigh.

“Drawer. Table.” Answered Zach haltingly, pointing and writhed on the bed. Chris grinned and retrieved lube, throwing a packet of condoms on the bed before sliding a slicked finger slowly into Zach’s ass. Zach gasped as a wave of pleasure ran through his aching cock and tried to relax his ass as Chris pushed another finger into him. “Mmgn. Chris.”

Zach’s hands were grasping again as Chris’ hand wrapped around Zach’s cock and began to stroke slowly. Zach was whimpering again and shifted his hips urging Chris’ fingers deeper, feeling them scissor and stretch him. “I wan' it,” keened Zach, appealing to Chris who was kneeling between his legs and smiling, gazing at Zach with big blue eyes full of lust he had first seen at the party house.

Chris complied, drawing his fingers out of Zach’s ass and pulled on a condom, slicking his shaft with lube. Zach turned over on the bed and presented himself, his fingers digging into the mattress. “No, not like that,” said Chris, rubbing his cock between Zach’s legs. Zach pushed back instinctively against the inviting pressure as Chris’ warm lube slicked hands gripped his hips, turning him. Zach turned over on the bed drinking in the sight of Chris kneeling over him with a full cock that was twitching slightly as he moved between Zach’s legs.

Zach lifted his knees and craned his head to watch Chris’ cock, the touch of pressure against his ass making him groan. Zach’s hands were grasping again, his fingers digging into Chris’ biceps as he felt the nub of Chris’ cock push into his ass. “Chris,” breathed Zach, his mouth opening wide and his breath stilling in his chest as Chris breached him. The full pressure of Chris’ filled Zach slowly, pushing deep until Zach was whimpering. “Nngn. Fuck.” Chris grasped Zach’s legs, sliding his arms under Zach’s knees and began a slow pumping rhythm. Zach tried to move hips, instinct told him to, but he could not. Instead he surrendered to each of Chris’ driving thrusts and rode the waves of pleasure Chris’ hard shaft gave him each time it hit his prostate.

Zach was held by Chris’ blue eyes until his own fluttered closed, losing himself in a dream of reality that became heated breath and the sound of his own need. Zach shuddered as he felt Chris’ hand grip his cock and begin to stroke mixing another pleasure with the moving pressure in his ass that unlike his dreams, was deep and full and real. Heat and sensation built in Zach’s cock and he listened to the staccto of Chris’ breath knowing they both close. Zach opened his eyes. “Fuck. Jesus Christ. CHRIS!”

“I know!” cried Chris.

“WIRE FISH!” shrieked Zach. Chris froze, then lunged, dragging himself off Zach just as the spike of metal whistled past his head. It did not miss Zach. Zach screamed in agony as the spike pierced his shoulder, the weight of the body wielding the wire fish falling atop him driving the sculpture deep. The shadows of the bedroom burst into white as a light was thrown on and Zach was screaming again. He could not move. The spike had been driven right though him, pinning him to the mattress.

Zach’s writhed in agony, panic blinding him as shouting erupted in the room. His hands slicked with his own blood as his fingers wound into the wire fish that filled his vision, vaguely aware that the body that had been on top of him was now gone. Zach’s world became a living nightmare of sounds and red and white and wire. A woman’s voice was screaming abuse, Chris shouted, glass shattered, Noah barked and then there was a sound of gunshot. The last thing Zach remembered before blacking out was the wire fish protruding from his chest covered in his own blood.

………………………..

Zach sat propped up on cushions on his sofa staring out of the window of his LA apartment, idly stroking Harold who sat, purring in his lap. His ass felt numb from sitting too long but when he tried to move, pain from the wound in his shoulder stopped him. “Ough. Fuck this.” He gingerly touched the swathes of bandages wrapped around his body and most of his shoulder and gritted his teeth as he tried to move again.

“Hey what are you trying to do?” said Chris, appearing at Zach’s side, crouching down and wiping his hands in a tea towel. Chris reached out and tickled Harold under the chin. “Doctor’s orders were rest.”

“My ass is numb,” said Zach, exasperation rising in him and threw Chris a look. “I need to move.” Chris smiled back and nodded before helping Zach shift a little on the sofa. Harold leapt, slinking away to find a more agreeable bed. Zach winced and grunted, a throbbing ache in his shoulder that he thought would never leave him.

“Time for more meds I think,” murmured Chris, leaving Zach’s side momentarily before returning with a glass of water and two large oval pills. “Be good.”

Zach signed and took the proffered medicine, dutifully shoving it in his mouth before drinking most of the water. Chris was already kneeling. “And maybe a little TLC.” Zach raised his eyes to Chris who was smiling and already rubbing his hand across Zach’s crotch. Despite Zach’s somewhat uncharacteristic reluctance, his shoulder was throbbing painfully, his cock was too and Chris soon released it from the confines of Zach’s pants.

Zach groaned quietly as Chris teased a tongue around the edge of Zach’s gland and licked at the pre-cum already glistening on Zach’s tip. Chris looked up at Zach with smiling blue eyes and wrapped willing lips over the head of Zach’s cock. Pain meds and pleasure then started to mix as Chris sucked Zach’s twitching shaft, swallowing deeply and drawing increasing needy whimpers from Zach who tangled the fingers of one hand in Chris’ hair. Zach gazed at Chris’ lips sliding up and down his length, until heat began to throb and his breath became ragged.

“Unmgn. Chris!” Zach came hard in Chris’ mouth, floating away on a sea of orgasm and pain meds, his head flopping back on the cushions supporting him. He felt Chris swallow and lick him clean before warm dry hands eased his cock back into his pants.

“I’m going to go and finish cooking dinner,” said Chris quietly, planting a firm kiss on Zach’s lips. Zach could taste himself and opened his eyes watching Chris, who was smiling, step away from the couch.

“What’s for dinner,” asked Zach sleepily, his veins humming with endorphins and meds. He heard Chris’ voice drift across the room. “What? Say that again,” asked Zach, fighting fatigue and lifting his head.

“Fish.”

Zach frowned, his head falling back on the cushions. An image of a wire fish flashed in his mind. “I hate fish,” he murmured vehemently, a fuzz of darkness pressing against the edges of his consciousness. Zach drifted to sleep.

He did not dream.

>>>>>

Epilogue

After recovering in hospital from a police gun shot wound to the leg, Lucy Milton stood trial for the attempted murder of Zachary Quinto. The jury found her not guilty having accepted her plea of diminished responsibility. Lucy was released under her doctor’s care. Zachary Quinto filed a restraining order against Lucy. Chris also filed a restraining order.

Police were unable to find any evidence linking Lucy Milton to the suspicious deaths of David Thatcher or Harquin Lambert.

The police files on Harquin Lambert however, remain open.


End file.
